Leviathan by David Barber

David Barber

Out of nowhere. Surfacing with a surge
and suck of gravity that made the Earth
flex in torment. No time to explain.
It raced the wavefront of catastrophe,
but sniffing a waterworld

and with true sentience so precious,
it snatched at the passing chance of rescue,
saved in the belly of the behemoth.
Then it vanished in a splash of physics
that blew every lightbulb

on the planet. We didn’t understand,
but in the aftermath of quakes and floods
and watching out for a catastrophe,
it was a while before we noticed
all the whales had gone.


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